“Forty-six… forty-six…” Jongin muttered sharply, rifling through the organized racks of plague samples as Baekhyun came in apprehensively through the laboratory door carrying a tray with three plates of food.

“Come and eat now.” Junmyeon turned himself from his lab bench to his desk and cleared away a short stack of papers so he could accept his lunch. “Besides, what’s wrong with the other samples? Is this not why we have so many?”

“Yes, but forty-six is missing,” Jongin insisted, missing the point entirely in his -retentive fog.

Junmyeon sighed. “We’ll find it after lunch.” It wasn't a total lie, but he would say anything to prevent the best researcher in the country from getting hung up on one missing sample. Realizing that neither of the other men was sympathetic to the predicament, Jongin sat roughly down at his desk, folding his arms over his chest with a barely audible murmur.

“Chanyeol would have helped…“

He caught his speech in his throat and looked over his shoulder to see Baekhyun looking at him in a expectant way that indicated he hadn’t quite heard.

“…Nothing.”

“So he’s still totally out of commission?”

Jongdae already knew the answer when he saw Baekhyun approach their favorite table at their favorite bar alone, sporting an ‘I tried’ shrug, but he asked it anyway.

“It’s been what, a week by now?”

“Eight days,” Baekhyun said, emulating Chanyeol’s recently developed languid manner of speaking. He grabbed a seat and was immediately greeted with a tall glass of his favorite ale from his favorite barmaid, wearing his favorite dress of hers that was just a bit shorter than the others. He gave her a wink and pressed the cool glass to his lips, watching her flounce back to the counter.

If only his favorite roommate could be there, it would be a great time.

“Yeol likes to travel, right? I know a place down by the shipyard, needs people to do deliveries up and down the coast.”

Half of the ale in Baekhyun’s glass had already been chugged by the time the glass came away from his mouth. “Y’see, I don’t even think that’s the problem. Yeah, he doesn’t like being out of a job, especially not a dream research one like that, but that pales to how much... y'know... Jongin.”

“I still don’t get why it's him,” Jongdae said as his eyes followed just above the bust hemline of another barmaid.

“On general principle, he’s into people with a code to crack,” Baekhyun explained while staring at the pitiful volume of booze that remained in the mug he was holding, but reveling in the warmth that radiated down the center of his chest. “He likes to see them melt just for him, and the icier the better. But I think this is the first time he’s met a challenge he tried so hard to handle and couldn’t.” He sighed, tipping back the mug before setting it on the table. “And the first time in a long time he’s cared this damn much.”

Jongdae sat back in his chair, his eyes taking a half-second to take in the difference between his still 2/3rds full mug and Baekhyun’s completely empty one, which was now being replaced of that barmaid of his. “Taeyeon okay with that?” he asked as he saw how Baekhyun eyed her.

“Look but don’t touch,” Baekhyun said with a grin, repeating his girlfriend’s policy. “I think I love that girl.”

Jongdae smiled, but a more serious look came back over his face just as quickly. “What are you gonna do for rent until Yeol’s back on his feet?”

Baekhyun shook his head briskly, indicating that rent was a non-factor. “I’ve got plenty saved, plus I make just enough to cover it myself anyway, if he covers groceries, and that’s pretty much the only reason he leaves the house anymore. And, if worst comes to worst I’ll just have you work some more magic on the landlord’s daughter,” he said.

“If she were running it you’d be living there rent-free thanks to me.” Jongdae grinned.

“Yeah, I think if I just give him a little time to work past it, maybe bring him out here or somewhere else every once in a while once he’s up to it, he’ll probably want to take up that shipyard job.”

“I’ll keep an eye on it for you,” Jongdae promised. “Speaking of keeping an eye on things, you goin’ for a record there, or…?” He pointed to the second mug of ale, on which Baekhyun was already making shocking progress. The older man blinked once and set aside the other good half of the glass that remained. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, only stopping by home to drop off his briefcase and ask Chanyeol if he’d like to join them at the bar.

It only took about fifteen more minutes for the alcohol to hit their systems, but the two men kept talking well into the night, only stopping when Baekhyun was clearly too plastered to even pretend to be functioning as a non-problematic member of society.

Jongdae wasn’t the most coherent, but he managed to half drag the wasted man back to his apartment and most of the way onto his bed before Jongdae himself collapsed face-first onto it, legs hanging off the foot.

It was about seven in the morning when Baekhyun managed to scramble out of bed just fast enough to stick his head over the trashcan and puke everything remaining in the organ that was once his stomach (which now felt more akin to a sack fillet with pure regret.) His moans as he clawed off his work shirt to spare it from any possible vomit stains or sweat from the morning heat, in conjunction with Jongdae’s loud and happy snoring, didn’t take long to wake even Chanyeol.

“Baek?” the sleepy man murmured, rubbing his eyes until they were clear of sleep and he could see his suffering roommate.

“Hi,” Baekhyun said, before falling into a fit of coughs and eventually wretching until more came up.

“You okay? Sick?” He fumbled for a match, but Baekhyun shot him a pathetic yet intense look that let Chanyeol know that lighting that bedside candle would be the end of him.

“Hangover…”

Chanyeol, although lethargic, immediately pushed back his layers of blankets and rolled out of bed to get to work preparing two cups of coffee. Not wanting to agitate Baekhyun’s likely throbbing head, he did so in silence (save for the and snoring.)

“Thanks,” Baekhyun said when Chanyeol placed the cup by him and returned to the corner of his bed to sit down. He had made a cup for himself as well since he figured that there was no way he would get back to bed the way things were looking.

“Good time?” he asked. Baekhyun nodded curtly.

When the shorter finally stopped dry-heaving and reached for his coffee, Chanyeol wasn’t sure, but after squinting in the low morning light at Baekhyun’s forearms, it became clear that he would have to light that candle.

“Noooo!” Baekhyun whined loudly as he dared at the bright flame rapidly approaching him.

“Shhh, just look away for a second.”

Baekhyun’s curiosity was stronger than his head's temporary hatred for the light, and he watched with confusion as Chanyeol gently turned his arm around so he could see the underside of his forearm.

They became silent as death as they saw the rose pink rash that was migrating up it.

Junmyeon approached the lab that Saturday morning to find a somewhat anxious-looking Jongdae standing outside of the door.

“Mister… Jongdae Kim, is it?” Junmyeon asked, filing back through his memory to locate the name. “Dr. Zhang’s laboratory. Good morning.”

“Oh, good morning Dr. Kim-“

“Please, call me Dr. Junmyeon. It becomes confusing otherwise, as I’d expect you might know.”

Jongdae nodded in agreement, but his mouth stayed in as tight a light as it naturally could. “Dr. Junmyeon…” He’d been thinking how he was going to tactfully break the news, but in his head this moment would be shared with Jongin and the wave of relief that had gone over him when he realized it was the other blonde coming out of the stairwell was great enough to wash the words from his mouth.

“Baekhyun’s been hospitalized. He’s fallen ill with the plague.”

Junmyeon’s heart dropped at the word hospitalized.

“,” he hissed. “Of all the times for… Is Chanyeol okay?” Jongdae nodded. “Good. Okay… May I ask you a favor?” Another nod. “Go to the hospital and request a private research room for him. I’ll prepare the viable cure candidates and be after you in ten minutes. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

Junmyeon dismissed him with a nod of his own, before turning back to the door and opening it with trembling hands.

Jongin arrived at the laboratory at 9:57 a.m. on Monday morning to find no one there, a good quarter of his supplies gone, a broken beaker on the floor, and a note on his desk.

‘Baekhyun in hospital. Took L1 cures. –Junmyeon, Sat 10 A.M.’ was written, referring to the potential cures they were sure wouldn’t result in ill side effects. Beneath that, continuing in Junmyeon’s barely legible ‘I’m busy’ scrawl, an addendum was also written.

‘Condition OK. Will clean glass later. –Mon 7 A.M.’

Jongin felt worry course through him, but he cleared his head, knowing that Junmyeon had the situation as handled as he could; if he’d had a need for Jongin, someone would have gone directly to his house by that point. The best thing for him to do would be to collect any other things around the laboratory he thought would be useful in curing Baekhyun, after cleaning the glass.

Thankfully the beaker had broken into mostly large pieces he was able to pick them up without the use of a broom. He tossed them into the broken glass bin then took the broom and dustpan to the remaining small fragments, and poured them in.

As they fell on the contents of the bucket, he noticed them raining down onto a numbered label half-glued to a fractured brown bottle.

“46”

The worry that came over him this time was almost enough to bring him to his knees.

His thought processes didn’t begin again until he was already out of the building and nearly jogging down the cobblestone street.

‘The last thing to get broken in the lab was the microscope. With it, Junmyeon’s cake plate lid and some old vials were broken. Sample 46 shouldn’t have been anywhere near…’

And at that moment he remembered temporarily placing sample 46 on that desk.

That was also the moment at which he broke into a run and didn't stop until he'd reached his target.

“Chanyeol Park’s room,” he demanded, just enough breath still in his lungs to keep him from presenting at his assistant’s apartment building without looking like a complete mess, but the heat still meant some strands of his hair clung to his forehead. “Please.”

The younger of the two twins, who could sense the urgency in Jongin’s request, told him that he was looking for the third door up the stairs and on the left, and with a courteous nod, he darted up the stairs as quickly as he would dare in polite society and finally made an attempt at catching his breath after he rapped on the apartment door.

“Jongdae?” the deep voice came. “Hold on just a second.” Jongin did as he (or rather as Jongdae) was told, hearing a bit of light shuffling inside of the room before the door finally opened.

Chanyeol paused for a moment as his eyes met with the unreadable ones of Jongin.

 “D-doctor…”

The façade was broken as Jongin was forced to pant to catch up with his breathing. “Those vials… The ones on the table that day… One of them was not a control.”

Chanyeol looked at the man in the doorway, his own face dissolving into an unreadable expression.

“I came to make sure… Are you….. How are you?”

Chanyeol allowed a second of silence.

“…I’m fine…” he replied quietly.

Jongin noticed how flushed Chanyeol’s face was, as well as how overly damp his bangs were. The boy never was a good liar.

“Let me see your arms.”

 “No, I’m fine, promise!” Chanyeol retorted, moving his arms from his sides to behind his back and taking a step backward.

Jongin took a step forward and closed the apartment door behind him. “Mister Park, arms!” he demanded.

Chanyeol swallowed nervously. He took another step back, and this time Jongin didn’t stop walking forward, reaching around Chanyeol’s back to grab his wrist but missing. Chanyeol took the missed grab as an opportunity to dive under his bed covers and cocoon himself in them as tightly as he could. Jongin wasn’t detracted at all, and he managed to rip off the comforter and two blankets, which left Chanyeol with only the light sheet.  The boy curled into a more protective fetal position, but this allowed for a gap in the sheets where Jongin was able to work in his left hand and grasp Chanyeol's.

Realizing he was in danger, Chanyeol attempted to flip over clockwise and away from Jongin’s hand, but this just forced the younger down onto him like winding thread onto a spool.

“Chan… yeol…… stop…!” he grunted as he fought against the taller and stronger’s attempt at freedom.

With one last strong effort, Chanyeol flipped Jongin between himself and the wall, but Jongin’s hand still remained firmly in its vice grip on Chanyeol’s hand.

Jongin could feel the tension in the other's body, which only now did he realize was pressed against him, go slack.

“You win…” came the small, tired voice.

But Chanyeol didn’t move, and Jongin was a bit too tired to do so himself.

And he wouldn’t have mentioned it aloud, but a bit too comfortable as well.

A few seconds of nothing but panting between them passed before Jongin’s left arm began to complain about being compressed by Chanyeol’s rib cage, and he finally had to wriggle it out from under the other and allow it to breathe.

“Let me see,” he murmured gently, lifting his right hand over the other. Chanyeol hesitantly obliged, offering up his right arm to Jongin to examine. When he did so, Jongin felt his heart give one heavy thump against his chest as dread came over him.

Although he’d tried to hide it with the long-sleeved shirt, the rash had begun to form blisters that peeked from the cuff of the sleeve.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?”

Other than surrendering his arm, Chanyeol hadn’t made any other movements or sounds.

Something felt like it was burning in Jongin’s chest.

“Mr. Park, why didn’t you…”

His breath shuddered as it exited his chest.

“Chanyeol…”

“I’ll go,” the weak murmur came again. “Leave me alone… and I’ll go.”

Jongin snorted indignantly. “You’re bloody right, because I’m taking you. Now.”

“No, just… Go… please.”

Jongin worked his way off of the bed and back to solid ground, moving to the small armoire and grabbing the longer of the two black blazers that it held. He also found a hat he remembered as being Chanyeol’s favorite. The burgundy velvet didn’t match with Chanyeol’s light blue shirt, but it didn’t matter.

“Doctor, please…”

Opening Chanyeol’s briefcase, he quickly saw that his wallet was no longer in its usual secure place. He thought for a moment before walking over to the nightstand and opening the drawer. He found what he was looking for.

 “Doct-“

“Get up,” he commanded, holding Chanyeol’s jacket by the bed for when he finally did as he was told. “We’re going.”

Because he sure as hell wasn’t leaving without him.